The 20’s were spent rockin’ the suburbs. Penniless but with plenty of time to spare, partying was on a budget. Smoking durrys and aimlessly driving around the city with mates was Friday night’s thrill.

Then the 30’s saw the polar opposite. Single and career driven, both money and time were spilling over in abundance. Unattached and uncommitted, life was an absolute riot.

Drinking till 3am on a school night was the norm. Strutting into the office at 9am sharp, wearing the professional suit and flawless makeup became an art form.

Since entering the fabulous 40’s, party mode is entirely different and definitely trickier.

How does one manage to still go out for a fun Saturday night without losing composure as a responsible (cough) mother of twinlets?

Last Saturday afternoon saw the Digital Parents catch up; a gathering of on-line pals. We read about each other’s quirks and perks, follow each other’s journeys. Meeting in the real life becomes a natural transition and conversations have an effortless, natural flow. (And it’s not just the alcohol talking, yo!)

It’s a connection non-bloggers don’t understand.

Being the token male of the evening, and just as hilarious as I imagined, Kevin easily claimed rock star status.

Kelly and Kylie were just as bubbly as the voices in their blogs. (Loved the purple stilettos, Kel!)

I’m bummed that I didn’t take a snap of Tamsin‘s (literally) killer shoes. Spikes and all!

Having a chin wag with the gorgeous and eloquent, Veronica, I was reminded how our friendship is so much more mature for its year and a bit existence.

Evening eventually rolled in. Along with the empty wine glasses, the last left standing with me were Mumabulous, Kim and mah soul sistah, Brenda.

Walking back to the train station, I did a Jess, tripped up on the footpath and sprained my ankle. Now, there’s the party days I remember!

I can say in complete contentment, this blogosphere is my social circle for this next decade and beyond.

Real life friends won’t get it. Spouses will shake heads at the copious amount of time dedicated to the computer screen and phone. Family members are left aghast.

Every year, Mr Surfer’s company organizes a Christmas family day at the office.

And while I don’t dread these events, it is a chaotic time. Think of forty kids running around an office floor full of computers, desks, boxes and every other company item forbidden for grubby little hands to touch. Not to mention the poor colleagues who weren’t part of the party and just actually wanted to get some work done. Yeah, good luck with that.

To be fair, a huge effort was made to make a corporate setting more kid-friendly.

An office desk was transformed into a cosy cubby house.

Which made up for the face painting that the boys stayed well clear of.

Unfortunately, they were also dubious of Santa.

Instead, they were more interested in getting right down to business. Future CEO, perhaps?

With the apparent closeness they established in the womb, during the ultrasounds, we would witness their playful kicks and punches with each other. Watching them intently in the NICU cot they shared, our hearts would melt as they would sleep, naturally leaning in towards each other, only a breath apart.

When we finally arrived home though, there was a significant transition. For the next 6 months or so, the twinlets had very little acknowledgement of each other’s existence.

Or so we thought.

It’s possible that the boys were simply still developing their long-sighted vision but we would hold the boys directly infront of each other, practically nose to nose, and they would still look diagonally away from each other.

There was no touching, or cooing. No real interaction to speak of.

Maybe I had high expectations. After all, they were newborns. I’m sure there was plenty in their new surroundings to get used to.

Perhaps, they were already aware of each other but just had their own secret signals.

Either way, I had no clue.

People would often ask, “Do you think they know they’re twins?”

My standard reply would be disappointing with very little insight, “I don’t know. But I’m guessing…no”

Gradually, along with their milestones, they also reached a sense of recognition for each other.

When it came to learning their names, they actually called out each other’s first before even uttering their own.

Not long ago, when illness invaded our home, K-Bear’s stubborn asthma kept him up and we both found ourselves watching telly together (Don’t judge me…).

As I mind numbingly watched “Everybody Loves Raymond”, there was a sudden appearance of Raymond’s identical twin boys. In fact, the scene was so brief that I would’ve missed it if K-Bear hadn’t called out, “Look Mama, Nunu and K-Bear!!!”

At first, I wasn’t sure what he was referring to but he kept pointing at the screen and again he insisted, “Nunu and K-Bear”

And right there, K-Bear understood his own special bond with his brother. Unfortunately, it was about the only thing I had to smile about that sleepless, ill-ridden night.

As much as I detest how Thomas and his friends have painstakingly invaded our home, our telly, our computer and our iPad, I’ll always be secretly grateful to Reverend W Awdry for the twin engine characters he also created.

After repeatedly watching DVD’s of the the steam engine pairs, Donald and Douglas and Bill and Ben, during one particular sitting, it was Nunu’s turn to pick up on his special monozygotic traits.

“Mama…Bill and Ben are twins…” he said proudly.
“Yes, sayang*. Yes, they are…” I replied.
“Mama, Nunu and K-Bear are twins…”
“Yes, sayang. Yes, you are…”

Finally, they began to truly appreciate their “twin-ness”

I think.

Maybe they’ve known all along, but have only now let us into their little world.

What’s the bet, that this entire time, they’ve actually been plotting a major twin conspiracy plan to create havoc and chaos for the rest of my life.

Yeah, I reckon that’s it.

*Sayang (pronounced “sah-YAHNG”) has multiple and varied meanings in Bahasa Indonesia, one being a term of endearment best translated as “Darling”, “Sweetheart” or “Crazy but beloved child of mine.”

When we first confirmed our holiday plans a few weeks ago, Mr Surfer told me that these days, robbers and house burglers read blogs as a means to find the next place to strike.

Well dudes, you’ll only find a half functional Thomas train set, a mountain pile of dirty nappies and pee-stained carpet over here. Go for your life.

In preparation for our first overseas trip comes the painstaking process of getting passports done.

The bureacreacy, the paper shuffling – all of it can drive any details adverse person nuts.

The greatest dilemma of all of course, were the actual photos.

Particularly for toddlers, the Australian Passport Office requirements are so unrealistic, they are laughable. Well, unless you’re the unlucky parent trying to fulfil them. No one’s finding it funny then.

No smiling is allowed. Keep mouth shout, infact. White background only. Nothing lower than the shoulders. Not too much space above the head.

Off we trotted to the photographer’s, oblivious to how much commotion it was going to cause.

At first, the twinlets were excited about being in a new little shop, full of interesting machinery and pictures.

Then, a big tall scary man with huge lobe earrings and a big black device wrapped around his neck came walking towards them.

No wonder they were petrified.

And there was no way in hell they were keeping still in front of a white background.

How confusing it must’ve been for them when after all these years of teaching them the association between a camera and a sweet smile, we suddenly commanded, “Don’t smile! No! No, keep still! Like this!!!”

Of course, trying to get them to pose like tin soliders was futile. What were we thinking?

I can count the number of times my husband has lost his cool. This failed photo shoot took up all the fingers on my right hand.

Infact, always the even keel Mr Surfer dropped the F-bomb. And for him to do that infront of a complete stranger carrying the camera added extra weight to the entire dire situation.

We decided to break the tension and walked out sans passport photos, completely defeated.

Thinking that perhaps the twinlets just needed some sustanance (and we needed to get our own shizz together), we went for a walk up the block. Plonking ourselves on the footpath, we fed the little stubborn munchkins some vegemite sambos.

Half an hour later, stomachs were full and moods were a little brighter, we headed back into the photo shop.

But nope. Another epic fail.

Screams, tears, scary photographers with massive ears.

Just wasn’t happening.

Mr Surfer dropped another F-Bomb.

Yikes!

Later that afternoon, as my camera adverse twinlets took their nap, I decided to go to my oracle Facebook for answers and asked if anyone knew the secret to perfect toddler passport photography.

Among the success (and not so successful) stories provided by Toddlers on Tour, Silly Mummy and iSophie, there was Rachel from The Kids Are All Right those who suggested that we “Find a friendly and patient Officeworks who will take the photos.” On the other hand, Renee´from Nee´Say had a quick and easy solution with “Phenergen and a white sheet.”

Then along came my friend, Jen who came up with the ingenious idea to do it the “baby way” – spread out a white sheet, lie the wriggly rug rats on the floor and take the photo from above.

And yes! It was a success…even if their hair did look like it was defying gravity.

Or we nearly blinded them with the flash…

Nevertheless folks, that’s how a passport photo of your tornado toddler is taken with the guarantee that all government documents and papers will be approved. I think…

If it wasn’t trippy enough finding out for the first time we were having twins, the ultrasounds thereafter were something out of this world.

Like a silent version of “Aliens”, Mr Surfer and I would sit in that dark room and stare at the huge plasma screen in disbelief. Before us, there were two little heads, two little bodies and all the twenty teeny tiny fingers and toes.

“It’s like you’ve got a little soccer team in there…” The ultrasound technician giggled on one occasion.

Hilarious….not.

As sleeping babies in their twin stroller, I would throw a large muslin over the front, protecting them from the sun and flies. But four little feet and their squidgy toes would peep out, catching the attention of many a jogger and by passer.

“Oh, how cute! You have twins?” Asking while having a quick peak through the cover.

These little feet are no doubt the joy of my life. At the same time, have given me great cause to get fit while learning the importance of patience.

They turn stubborn, defiant even, and refuse to budge an inch when I’m in a hurry to get them to the car.

But then they do the Usain Bolt, (usually in opposite directions), guaranteeing me to sprint after them and beating my PBT.

There are also the precious moments when they actually sit still. Then a foot is shoved in my face, requesting for fat little toes to get some “This Little Piggy” tickle time.

“Mama, Piggy…Piggy…”

Back in late August, Betts Kids kindly invited me to the launch of their Summer/Spring collection.

Along with a beautiful morning tea spread, I had the opportunity to see first hand a beautiful and stylish range of shoes that had plenty of appeal for children of all ages.

I can say from experience that Betts Kids shoes are extremely comfortable because they graciously gave the twinlets a pair each. Not only are these sandals look so cute on these mischievous, adventurous little feet, the boys happily wear them without fuss. (Big plus!)

And the news gets even better! Betts Kids are generously offering 3 readers a pair (to the value of $100) each. Awesome, yes?

2. Sign up to the awesome Digital Parents community ( if you haven’t already done so). DP was created by Brenda Gaddi who happens to be the creator of FYBF. She’s also created 4 gorgeous kidlets. In case you’d like to know. Or maybe not. But we’ll share that info just the same.

3. Add your post URL to the linky. Please only link up one post.

4. Grab the funky FYBF button and post it on your sidebar. Help spread the blogfloggin love.

5. Visit the blogs of your fellow FYBF’ers and share the comment love.

There comes a time in a loving couple’s journey when birthdays become overrated and easily sink and forgotten into the dregs of mundane life…oh wait. That’s just me.

The past couple of years (i.e since the boys were born), I have become, to say the least, extremely slack when it comes to birthday preparations for my beloved.

This developing lax nature has crept up like a stray cat out of a garbage bin.

I just always assumed that he is indeed a man with everything because, well, he doesn’t want much to begin with.

Give him an ocean with some decent waves and a board to hang ten and he’s a happy dude.

So, here I am thinking that the DVD’s, books, pieces of clothing that I’ve bought for him were all adequate.

Although, now come to think of it, I never saw him finish any of those books. As for the DVD’s, they all held a predictable, consistent theme of either surfing or comedy, with shows like “Modern Family” or “How I Met Your Mother” (Dare I say, the sitcoms were intended for my viewing pleasure too…ahems).

If Mr Surfer’s fed up with crap, boring presents over the years, I’ve been completely oblivious to it.

After all, he’s never mentioned anything.

Until recently.

In the lead up to his impending birthday, a dinner table conversation took me by complete surprise.

Both preoccupied in our meal time battle with the twinlets to eat their broccoli, Mr Surfer, out of the blue, decided to no longer leave another birthday to fate or my dud presents.

“Wet suit…”

“What ???”

“If you’re stuck on what to get me this year, I need a new wet suit”

“Oh…”

Ooookay.

Was he telling me to get my act together, or what?

Suddenly, my vague, cute idea of getting him cufflinks engraved with the twinlets’ initials flew out of our kitchen window.

Vowing to be lazy, bad wifey no more, the next day I made a trip to the surf shop. I grabbed the most sun beaten surfer sales assistant I could find. No holds barred, within minutes I bought something from the top of the range section. I’m pretty sure my pony-tailed, prickly bearded friend thought I was the easiest sale he’s made this season.

I left the shop with a resounding skip in my step. Not only did I get the present of my Hubby’s choice, I got it 2 weeks waaay in advance of the big day.

Getting confident in the race to win Wife of the Year Award, I even went ahead and made dinner plans, reserving a table at a funky new restaurant that I knew he (and not just my culinary tastes) would like.

Throwing in a couple of extras in the birthday basket, I bought some “Grand Designs” DVD’s and a surfing one I knew he hadn’t seen before.

I was on a roll, baby.

For good measure, I also scrambled through many a jewellery shop to find the perfect (non-cheesy) cufflinks.

In the end though, it was the rubber synthetic steamer that won me awesome-wifey-brownie points aplenty.

Dare I say, it was close to being the most perfect birthday I had organised for my man since the downfall to neglectful, scatterbrain spouse.

Next year I’ll remember to buy the birthday card.

Oops.

Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s hopeless with birthday pressies for their partner…

About Me…

Indonesian-born, Grace spent extensive time living and working overseas, primarily in Japan. She now resides in Sydney where she is mum to identical twin boys and wife to an avid surfer. While she has happily replaced office life with motherhood, Grace has discovered that a 10 year career in corporate sales and being fluent in 3 languages is futile when dealing with toddler tantrums and singing “The Wheels On The Bus”